


in this harbor of a room

by noblerot



Category: Death Stranding (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Praise Kink, Trans Male Character, Voyeurism, have you noticed how much fragile loves to stare at him. i have noticed., the GENTLEST of femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:08:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblerot/pseuds/noblerot
Summary: Sam has a routine about these things, the same way he does about all his body’s needs.short and simple sam jacking off fic ft. fragile
Relationships: Sam Porter Bridges/Fragile
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	in this harbor of a room

**Author's Note:**

> i use the language i'm personally comfortable with, your mileage may vary. anyway here's wonderwall

Sam has a routine about these things, the same way he does about all his body’s needs. As much as he prefers to stay out of the cities, it’s nice to have a private room when the urge hits. He rinses off first, just to get the grime of the road off him, he’ll take his time later. He checks on Lou real quick, to make sure she’s sleeping sound and shutters the pod. Hard to find a minute of privacy when you’ve got a kid.

He doesn’t strip or lay back or make an event of it, just undoes his pants and pushes them down a little. Not wet yet, but interested. Even if he’s just getting it over with he’s gotta warm up to it. One hand to his chest, petting. The other he holds firm against his clit, just a rough surface to grind against. It’s nice that his hands are so rough. The way his calluses drag when he rolls his hips…his body likes that, responds to it. So he keeps moving like that, slow and steady. Until his palm starts getting slick.

It’s nice. Pleasant, even. It’s just so hard for him to relax and feel it.

It would be easier if someone told him to. The thought shoots across his mind unbidden and suddenly he’s _wet_. Not that he’d really want that, but since his mind is running wild…

Has to be someone who wouldn’t touch him, someone he trusts. Who would just watch, maybe tell him what to do a little. Maybe—if he’s honest with himself, maybe tell him that he’s doing good. Or not good enough, even.

He’s finally wound up enough to press one finger into himself and he breathes sharp at the feeling of it. It’s been too long. The pleasure is unexpected.

He feels exposed. If someone wanted to watch him they could so easily and Sam would—well, in the fantasy he’d just let them. He’d be unable to stop it. Even if he felt ashamed and he would and he does, pushing another finger in and curling them. Shame twitches inside him and warms his cheeks and he wants, suddenly, so badly to be caught like this.

A slight vibration and the smell of rain in the air is his only warning. Aided by pure adrenaline, he barely manages to yank his hand out of his pants and roll over to face the wall before Fragile jumps into existence in the corner of his room.

“You ever heard of privacy?” Sam snaps, hoping his voice doesn’t sound too shaky. God, he’s afraid to turn around.

“Once or twice.” She retorts. “But I—Sam, did you need something?”

“What?”

“You called me?”

He turns from the blank wall to face her, as if that will make more sense. “Hell do you mean?”

Fragile looks equally confused, arms folded across her chest. “I felt you ask for help. That’s always how I get here.”

Sam hopes the dawning understanding doesn’t show on his face. He is so fucked.

“Well, I didn’t.” It sounds extremely unconvincing even to his own ears. “Must be a false alarm or something. So you can just, uh, get back to it.”

“Right. I’ll let you rest.” Fragile looks concerned, both at the situation and his behavior. For the first time she’s really taking in the room, and the state of him. Shit. “Do you—oh.” And then the gears click into place.

Sam should probably say something. Probably apologize or explain that he wasn’t thinking about her _specifically_ in any kind of weird way though now the thought is sure to cross his mind. He just can’t seem to make his mouth move, much less say coherent words. Fragile is getting slightly red and he’s probably far worse.

Thankfully she breaks their frozen silence, turns around to leave so he can pull his pants up and never think about sex ever again, thank you. But she pauses, hand already on her umbrella, right as she’s about to step away. He’s so prepared for the worst that he almost misses her quiet question.

“Are you sure you didn’t need help? With—” She trails off, boldness dissolving.

It takes a moment for Sam to understand what she’s saying. Then he has to swallow, hard, as it feels like all the blood in his brain heads south.

“You could stay.” He says, rushed and quiet. As if he’s hoping she won’t hear. “Don’t have to do anything.”

Fragile turns, whip quick. For a moment they just look at each other, not sure what to do now that they’ve acknowledged it. But then Sam is rolling over onto his back, showing exactly what he’s been up to and she moves in on him, suddenly very serious.

“Don’t touch.” He warns as she comes to the edge of the bed.

“I know.” To his surprise, she lays next to him like a cat, leaving a healthy amount of distance between them. Watching his face more than…anything else. “I won’t.”

Fragile’s always been intense when she looks at him, sometimes he has to duck away from the sheer focus of it. But it’s different like this, her pupils gone wide and dark in the blue, thinking how exposed he must be through her eyes. The air feels more painfully charged every second they go without moving. Nothing to do but back down or commit, then.

The first push of his fingers back inside has him flinching away from how good it feels, his legs suddenly pressing tight together. He can’t meet her eyes.

“Sam,” she says, that intensity now focused down towards where his knees are locked. “Let me see?”

It’s just this side of an order and it makes him twitch against his hand. He knows firsthand how assertive Fragile can be but can’t possibly ask for that out loud. Burning with shame, he lets his legs fall open. The muscles tremble with the active effort of keeping them there, of putting himself on full display.

Fragile’s little hitched breath is worth it. “Good,” she sighs, almost accidental and then it’s a feedback loop, the way they set each other off. The feeling of being praised rushes through him molten hot. He can feel how embarrassingly wet he is, just from this, and that means she can tell too. He can see it in her eyes, her slight smile, like she’s figured him out—

“You can move, Sam.” And that’s all the permission he needs to roll his hips up almost uncontrollably. Each motion taking his fingers deeper, grinding against his hand a little harder.

“You can take one more, Sam.” And she’s right and he can, easier than he thought, near-moaning at the sensation of fullness. All the coiling pleasure in him pulls taut at the knowledge that he can’t hide how good it feels.

“You’re doing so good, Sam.” And he growls wordless gratitude as the praise floods him, has him soaking the thin sheets. He feels flayed open, exposed, her gaze pinning him in place so he can’t writhe away. He brings his other hand down to rub himself inelegantly and that little extra pressure pulls him right to the edge, his muscles tense and shaking.

Fragile’s hands tremble and she worries at the edges of her gloves, the only sign that there’s anything going on underneath her composed surface. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she sighs, earnest, shifting just slightly closer. And then, more commanding than before, “Let me see.”

The frayed rope holding him together snaps, he feels the warm shock of it all through his body. He fights the instinct to curl in on himself, to hide—instead he lets his back arch off the bed as he comes hard, twitching around his fingers. He guides himself through it, thumb still rubbing little circles against his clit. Pleasure sparks up and down his spine, makes him flinch and gasp with each pulse.

It’s more intense than it’s been in a while. He’s so oversensitive that pulling his hand away nearly hurts, has him rolling his eyes back again.

When he comes back down, Fragile is still watching him intently, her breathing shallow and quick.

They trip over each other’s words, her “Are you—” rushing over his “You okay?”

Sam takes a deep breath, tries to get his twitching under control. God, his thighs are shakier than after a day of hiking. “’m alright. Just a lot.”

“Thank you,” Now it’s Fragile who can’t keep eye contact, turning her face into the pillow and laughing. “Sorry—”

“No, you’re—" Sam rolls on his side so they’re facing each other. “—you’re good. I’m good.” His whole body feels liquid, the knots in his back loosened. Maybe it’s just what he needed.

Fragile smiles wide and bright. It looks good against the color in her cheeks. “We’re good.”

It’s nice. Been a long time since he actually enjoyed some afterglow instead of heading right for the shower and back onto the road. Been even longer since he enjoyed having company.

But it’s not long before Fragile’s sitting up, moving carefully around him to get off the bed. He’s not disappointed, really—if she’s not ready for anything else, he’s not going to push it. He doesn’t even know what he wants, exactly. Not to touch her, but…

“Sam.” She gives him one more private smile, just this side of a smirk. “Warn me next time. I’ll bring you dinner first.”

He laughs, and tries to ignore how the idea of a _next time_ takes hold in his chest. “Think we’re past that.”


End file.
